


Your Servant Shall Do So

by chalkwalkcartoonist



Category: Midsummer Night's Dream - Shakespeare
Genre: Gender-Neutral Peaseblossom, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:47:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26673154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chalkwalkcartoonist/pseuds/chalkwalkcartoonist
Summary: Peaseblossom is overworked and underpaid. So is Puck. This Midsummer Night is shaping up to be a disaster.Or, Why Attending to Fairy Rulers Is the Most Exhausting Job
Relationships: Peaseblossom & Puck | Robin Goodfellow
Kudos: 6





	Your Servant Shall Do So

The Midsummer moon hung low and full over the forest, the hot evening breeze whispered amongst the leaves, and Peaseblossom was having a shit night.

The Queen, who was displeased with Peaseblossom for extremely silly reasons that were absolutely not their fault, had sent her chief attendant out at the first signs of evening to collect  _ dewdrops. _ Peaseblossom had tried to gently explain that dew was a product of rapidly-dropping temperatures and humidity, and since the night was stuffier than a troll’s loincloth, there wasn’t likely to be dew until morning, if at all. But what Queen Titania wanted, Queen Titania got, and Queen Titania wanted dewdrops.

So here Peaseblossom was, traipsing through the forest towards Mab’s Meadow, sweating like a pig and trying to figure out how they were supposed to simulate dewpoint on the hottest damn night of the year, when some dickhead stranger fairy stepped out of the bushes and started  _ hitting on them. _

“How now, spirit. Whither wander you?” he asked, leaning nonchalantly against a tree. He gave a smile that was probably very charming, but that right then just made Peaseblossom want to fling mud all over his fancy clothes.

“Everywhere,” snapped Peaseblossom. They shoved their sweaty hair out of their eyes and glared. “And I’m in a hurry. Queen’s business. Please excuse me.”

“Oh?” the stranger said, raising one winged eyebrow. “What business has the Queen for her servants on this Midsummer Night?”

“Dewdrops,” said Peaseblossom shortly, and started walking again.

The stranger laughed incredulously. “In this heat? May as well ask for the moon itself to be brought down from the sky.” To Peaseblossom’s annoyance, he fell into step beside them. They considered flying to get away from him, since they had wings and he didn’t, but the brush here was too thick for a good takeoff.

“Yes, well,” they said. “Her Majesty wants to ‘hang a pearl in every cowslip’s ear,’ so here I am. Never mind that that’s obviously a  _ Spring _ decoration,” they added in a mutter. “White mushrooms and trailing ivy would be much more seasonally appropriate, but no, suddenly it’s, ‘Peaseblossom, go change the weather systems of an entire forest--’”

“Peaseblossom?” the other fairy said, startled. “The Queen’s chief attendant? Why does she have you hunting for decorations instead of supervising the Midsummer celebration?”

Peaseblossom harrumphed and walked a little faster. “I do not presume to question Her Majesty,” they said icily. They certainly weren’t going to tell some stranger that they were currently in Titania’s ill favor because of her bratty little human ward. Let him figure out what was happening at court on his own.

A twig snapped behind them, and Peaseblossom turned. Trailing along in the wake of the two fairies was a human man. He carried a roll of parchment and a quill pen, and was frantically scribbling something. As he reached the two of them, he stopped and looked down at Peaseblossom expectantly.

“Uhhhh…” Peaseblossom stared back up at him. “What?”

“Pardon me,” said the human. “I didn’t mean to intrude. Just pretend I’m not here.”

Peaseblossom looked at the other fairy. He didn’t seem surprised in he least. In fact, he just shrugged and flashed that charming smile at them again. “He said he needed inspiration. I thought I would provide some.”

Peaseblossom pinched the bridge of their nose. “Seriously?” The other fairy merely grinned. Peaseblossom sighed. “You’d better get his ass out of here. The Queen is going to be starting Midsummer celebrations in the meadow up ahead in--” They checked the position of the moon. “--approximately now. And you  _ know _ humans aren’t allowed to see that shit.”

“The revels of the Fairy Queen?” the human cried rapturously. “I should be greatly honored to witness such a thing, Master Peaseblossom, if it could be permitted!”

“No,” said Peaseblossom bluntly. “And it’s not ‘Master.’”

The other fairy broke in. “Wait a moment. The Queen’s Court is holding celebrations in Mab’s Meadow?” For the first time, he sounded concerned instead of casually amused.

Peaseblossom looked at him, brow furrowing. “Yes,” they said slowly. “Why?”

The other fairy closed his eyes and let out a long, slow breath. “Because,” he said, “the  _ King _ is planning to celebrate in Mab’s Meadow, and if they run into each other, there are going to be  _ fireworks. _ ”

Peaseblossom started, wings fluttering. “Wait, what? The King is coming here too?”

“Of  _ course _ he’s coming here! Mab’s Meadow is the best place to celebrate Midsummer. Everyone knows that!”

“Which is why the  _ Queen _ is going to celebrate there,” said Peaseblossom angrily. “Why can’t the King celebrate somewhere else for once?  _ He’s _ the one who caused this stupid fight,  _ he _ can make some sacrifices.”

The other fairy scoffed, and Peaseblossom sharply revised their assessment of him. They had thought, based on his seeming, that he was another member of the Queen’s Court, albeit one of the outer circle who wasn’t privy to the politics of the Queen’s attendants. If he was siding with the King, though, and had such detailed knowledge about where the King’s Court was planning to go--

“The only one causing this fight is the Queen,” he said haughtily. Definitely a King’s Court member, then. And with feelings that strong, probably a fairly important member. “She pays all her attention to that beautiful little human pet of hers and refuses to let the King make him a member of his retinue. If she would just--”

“The King has no authority over the Queen’s wards,” Peaseblossom interjected. In their opinion, the little brat could use some of the hard work and discipline that being a knight of the King’s train would provide, but never mind that. “She has the right to raise him however she deems fit, and for as long.”

“She spoils him rotten,” said the other fairy, which, true. “And he’s not even her ward. She stole him from a human, that’s not the same thing.”

The human was scribbling on his parchment again, tongue sticking out in concentration. “Stolen… from… an Indian… King…” he muttered.

Peaseblossom frowned at him. “What? No. He’s from Brighton,” they said. “What are you going on about?”

The other fairy gestured impatiently, calling Peaseblossom’s attention back. “Look, the point is, if you can’t get the Queen to go celebrate somewhere else, there’s going to be a massive fight here in about five minutes, and guess who’s going to have to deal with the fallout?”

Peaseblossom squinted at him. That dismissive gesture was very familiar. “Hang on. Robin?” Their eyes widened as they looked him up and down. “Robin Goodfellow?” They frowned. “Your seeming’s changed. A lot.”

He made a face, and yes, that was Goodfellow in there. “The King wanted to make a change out of respect to the human king’s wedding day. There’s a fete tomorrow, and he thought we should look more… whimsical.”

Peaseblossom snorted and started walking again. “That’s one way of putting it. Do you all have a ‘Great God Pan’ look going on, or is it just you?”

Goodfellow smiled sheepishly and felt the horns peeking from his curly brown hair. “Just me,” he said. “Oberon’s created a ‘nymphs of the forest’ theme that we all fit into, though.” He flexed his hands thoughtfully. “I miss the claws from my last seeming, though. And these teeth are too blunt.”

Peaseblossom made a face. “At least you don’t have wings. The Queen turned us all into airy-fairy sprites for Midsummer, and these things keep getting in the way of everything.”

“I dunno,” Goodfellow mused, “I could use a good pair of wings. Think of the things I could get up to if I could fly.”

“I would prefer not to,” Peaseblossom said dryly. “Chaos and mayhem, I imagine.”

“Frights… the maidens… of the villagery…” the human murmured. Peaseblossom glanced at him and cast a quizzical look at Goodfellow, who shrugged.

“Seemings and mischief aside,” he said, “if we don’t do something fast,  _ both _ of our nights are going to be taken up with complicated revenge plots instead of dancing and drinking.”

They had reached the edge of Mab’s Meadow now. Peaseblossom sighed. “You’re right. But the Queen isn’t going to just give up on celebrating here. Is there any chance you could convince the King to--”

The question was abruptly taken out of their hands as the quality of the air changed. The moonlight, which had been soft and gentle, brightened until the woods looked bathed in a silver noon. The oppressive heat suddenly abated and the sounds of the forest creatures went silent as the grave. Peaseblossom felt their wings shudder and the hair stand up on the back of their neck as magic flooded the forest.

Goodfellow grabbed them by the arm and dragged them swiftly into a nearby bush, along with the human writer, who was still scrawling on his parchment. Goodfellow pushed them both to the ground and peered out through the leaves.

Peasblossom lifted their face from the dirt and spat out a leaf. “What the hell?” they demanded - in a whisper, because they knew exactly what he was doing. They just wanted to make it clear they didn’t like it.

“Shh,” Goodfellow commanded, laying one hand over their mouth. “I don’t want to get caught talking to a Queen’s fairy right now. Do you have any idea what the King does when he’s displeased with his attendant?”

“I imagine it’s a lot like what the Queen does when she’s displeased with hers,” Peaseblossom muttered into his palm.

Goodfellow shook his head. “Oh, no. There’s no dewdrop-gathering for me. He’ll send me to australia and back, and make me do it in forty minutes. Do you have any idea how exhausting that is?”

Instead of answering, Peaseblossom grabbed Goodfellow’s sleeve and hissed. Two figures had just entered Mab’s Meadow from opposite sides and were stalking regally towards one another. They came face to face and stopped, a pair of proud, cold statues in the center of the clearing. Peaseblossom held their breath. Beside them, they could feel Goodfellow doing the same.

“Ill-met by moonlight, proud Titania,” said one of the figures in a voice that rolled like thunder.

Goodfellow’s eyes closed and he thunked his forehead onto the ground. “Very tactful, your Majesty,” he muttered.

Peaseblossom opened their mouth to make a snide comment about starting fights, only to squeeze their eyes shut and put their own face in the dirt as the Queen snarled, “What, jealous Oberon? Fairies, skip hence! I have foresworn his bed and company.” Peaseblossom lifted their head to peek as Titania turned to leave, then gasped and started up as the king  _ grabbed their lady by the wrist. _ It was only Goodfellow’s sudden tight grip around their mouth and shoulders that kept them from sprinting out into the meadow at once to defend their Queen.

“She doesn’t need your help! Calm down!” he hissed into their ear. “She can handle herself--”

“Tarry, rash wanton!” the King commanded. Peaseblossom stiffened with rage. How  _ dare _ he call her that?! Goodfellow tightened his grip, and Peaseblossom responded by biting him as hard as they could. Goodfellow’s yelp of pain was covered up by the King continuing, “Am I not thy lord?”

“Then I must be thy lady,” Titania replied coldly. “But I know when thou hast stolen away from Fairyland--”

Peaseblossom missed the next part of the conversation because Goodfellow rolled on top of them to stifle their outraged shrieks. His new seeming was much larger than theirs, and by the time they had elbowed him enough times to make him roll off again, groaning, Titania was saying, “The Fairyland buys not the child of me. His mother was a votress of my order.” Peaseblossom ignored Goodfellow’s pained glare and listened as their lady continued, “Full often hath she gossiped by my side and sat with me on Neptune’s yellow sands, marking the embarked traders on the flood. When we have laughed to see the sails conceive and grow big-bellied with the wanton wind, which she, with pretty and with swimming gait, did follow (her room then rich with my young squire), would imitate, and sail upon the land to fetch me trifles, and return again, as from a voyage, rich with merchandise.” The Queen raised her chin, eyes sparkling in the moonlight with unshed tears. “But she, being mortal, of that child did die. And for her sake do I rear up her boy, and for her sake I will not part with him.”

As the Queen finished her speech, Peaseblossom promised themself that they would do a better job of trying to get along with the Brat. So what if he was spoiled and rude and generally unpleasant? He was precious to their lady, and he brought her a great deal of joy, so they ought to do better. If she wanted to keep him, then they would defend that decision to the death.

Goodfellow was looking at them with an odd expression on his face. They shot him a glare and wiped their eyes surreptitiously on their sleeve. He patted their shoulder condescendingly.

Then both of them froze as a voice beside them murmured, “her… sake… I will… not… part… with him.”

The faces of the monarchs snapped around to look directly at the bush where Peaseblossom, Goodfellow, and their unfortunately-forgotten human companion lay hidden. Before any of them could react, the King raised a hand, and the bush exploded as though every leaf and twig had decided to fly in a different direction simultaneously. Its three suddenly-exposed occupants were dragged out of the foliage by invisible forces and raised ten feet into the air to stare the royal couple in the face.

“Peaseblossom!” the Queen exclaimed. Elegantly, of course; she could never be less than elegant. Peaseblossom attempted to bow from their position in midair. They could feel themself flushing with embarrassment.

“Puck,” said Oberon darkly. Out of the corner of their eye, Peaseblossom saw Goodfellow give his most charming smile. “What is the meaning of this?”

Goodfellow’s smile became a rictus. “Ah. Well--”

“We were resolving a scheduling conflict, Your Majesties,” Peaseblossom blurted. The Queen raised one dark eyebrow, and Peaseblossom bowed their head. “For Mab’s Meadow. Right?” They shot a look at Goodfellow.

“Yes, exactly,” said Goodfellow, and Peaseblossom breathed an internal sigh of relief. If nothing else, the Puck was good at picking up on a scheme and running with it. “We discovered at the last minute that the meadow was double-booked, so to speak. We were attempting to find an amenable solution when Your Majesties arrived.”

Oberon’s eyes roamed over the dirt smeared across Peaseblossom’s front and the obvious bite marks on Goodfellow’s hand and arm. “So I see.”

“And the human?” Titania asked archly.

“A temporary annoyance, Your Majesty,” Peaseblossom burst out. “We were about to remove him when you arrived.” This time they didn’t need to look at Goodfellow - he was already nodding. Even he wouldn’t bring a human to a fairy revel. Or at least, he wouldn’t admit to it. “We beg your Graces’ pardons for allowing him to intrude on your discussion.” Peaseblossom bowed as low as possible, and Goodfellow followed their example.

The human, for some reason, seemed to think that this was the best time to speak his piece. “Great King!” he cried. “Most beauteous Queen! I apologize most humbly for intruding upon your revels. When I entered these woods, I hoped only that the spirit of nature might unlock my words and set my pen to writing. I never dreamed that I might come across a court so fair, nor two rulers so magnificent! I can only beg that you spare me my life, that I might write brave verses to your splendor.” He placed his hand, still gripping the quill pen, over his heart and made a bow that was surprisingly elegant given that his feet were nearly a man’s height of the ground. He gave the monarchs a look so piteous it might have melted a stone.

A faint smile played about the Queen’s lips. “You speak very prettily, human,” she said in a voice as soft as spider silk. “What is your name?”

“William Shakespeare, Your Majesty,” the man said humbly. “A poet and playwright of no great consequence.”

“You do yourself a disservice,” said the King. “I have heard your name spoken in the wider world, mortal.” He waved his hand carelessly and Peaseblossom, Goodfellow and Shakespeare were released. Peaseblossom used their wings to break their fall, while Goodfellow landed gracefully on his dainty hooves. Shakespeare, meanwhile, had to scramble back to his feet, still clutching his precious quill and parchment.

“You seek inspiration, William Shakespeare?” said Oberon with a sharp grin. “I will give you inspiration, then. Ride by my side tonight, and you shall see wonders such as you have never dreamed!”

Shakespeare bowed again. “I thank you, great King,” he said. “Your offer is a kind one and I should be honored to accept it.”

The King turned back to the Queen. Peaseblossom, sensing an out, slipped to stand a few paces behind the Queen. Goodfellow did the same for the other monarch.

“How long will you stay in these woods?” the King asked. His voice seemed almost gentle now.

“Perchance til the mortal king’s wedding day,” Titania replied. Her stance softened just a little bit, so subtly that only Peaseblossom (and maybe the King) might notice it. “If you will patiently dance our round and see our moonlight revels, go with us. If not, shun me, and I will spare your haunts.”

Across the glad, Goodfellow met Peaseblossom’s eyes. His expression was one of astonished hope that Peaseblossom knew they were mirroring. Could this be the start of a reconciliation? Was the Midsummer festival salvageable after all?

Then Oberon’s expression changed from gratified surprise to cold calculation. “Give me that boy, and I will go with thee.”

The temperature in the clearing dropped precipitously.  _ Damn, _ thought Peaseblossom as the sharp change shriveled the wildflowers in the grass and caused condensation to form on every available surface,  _ I really thought they might get along for a moment there. _ They shivered as a small breeze played across their suddenly-soaked wings and clothing.

“Not for thy fairy kingdom,” Titania spat. She turned on her heel. “Fairies, away! We shall chide downright if I longer stay.”

Titania strode from Mab’s meadow. Peaseblossom hurried after her, casting a single miserable look at Goodfellow as they did. He nodded gloomily back.

If nothing else, Peaseblossom consoled themself, there had been one upside to having the fight renewed. They had fulfilled their lady’s most recent order. The condensation that had coated the grass had also formed on the chitin of their long, diaphanous wings, leaving a full basket’s worth of dewdrops.

**Author's Note:**

> I have no excuses for this. I had an idea and wrote it.


End file.
